


Rain, Umbrella and a Man Holding It Up

by dudufactory



Category: RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-26
Updated: 2010-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudufactory/pseuds/dudufactory





	Rain, Umbrella and a Man Holding It Up

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [雨，伞，撑伞人](https://archiveofourown.org/works/82996) by [dudufactory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudufactory/pseuds/dudufactory). 



A gloomy, rainy day, a little bit cold as well.

Bradley hunched up his shoulders around his ears—he should have taken a scarf, if he had knew this kind of weird weather. Cold still lingering in the early spring seldom came into his mind.

The rain, probably, was the potential reason.

 

Bradley was sheltering in the doorway of a store, seeing people rushing in the street, back and forth. He thought himself and sighed deeply.

The city beat was bloody fast, too fast.

 

It wasn't raining cats and dogs literally. Nonetheless, Bradley stood under a roof on purpose. He was reluctant to make his clothes wet only for the silly excuse of going home. It was still early and calling a taxi was so easy. But Bradley was still there, standing still.

He wanted to heave a sigh of relief, for this noisy, fast-going, terrible world.

 

An unconscious glimpse told Bradley that he was standing in front of a bookstore. He turned around and saw what inside through the window.

Some old-fashion-styled lamps illuminated this small world, with their gentle beam, warming the people from outside. There were few people in it, all back to Bradley, looking for something they were interested in. And its owner, an old man wearing monocle, seemed to not care about shoplifting and wrote something important for him at the desk.

Bradley loved this tranquil scene which made him feel fluffy and comfortable as well. A smile gradually climbed on this strapping blonde's beautiful face, so charming.

 

All of a sudden, a harsh horn destroyed Bradley's temporary haven. He cursed that damn taxi driver, which caused his attention to the current of vehicles in the street, feeling himself as if he were standing on the border of two totally different universes. He pushed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, waiting the rain stop.

 

While waiting, a sound from people opening an umbrella attracted Bradley. A red stuff blossomed near his side. Meanwhile, a man holding this red long-handle umbrella came out of the bookstore. That red was so vivid in this grey picture that Bradley gave a second glance where this red flower fully bloomed.

The man was unaware of Bradley's deliberate sight, carrying his packsack on his back and pursing up his lips casually.

 

The atmosphere created by that black-haired man gave Bradley a unique feeling of sereneness. Maybe his dress left the strapping blonde a clean impression? Plus, a stuff which made Bradley envy was just wrapped around the man's pale neck.

A soft scarf, long as well.

It was its length that delivered Bradley a hint of that guy's height, for his neck muffled two circles of the scarf, down to his waist. And compared to Bradley's figure, he was scrawny.

 

If only he could share part of the fluffiness.

The thought made Bradley frown when he imagined the picture—two man sharing a scarf.

 

At that moment, the umbrella was moving towards the right.

Was he about to go somewhere?

This really let Bradley down, because of the man holding up a red long-handle umbrella.

Because of his magical feeling brought to Bradley.

 

Only God knew what Bradley had done—

He was following the red umbrella. He was following that guy.

'What the hell am I doing?'

Bradley said to himself, feeling both ridiculous and creepy.

'I was…I was just on the trail of that man!'

 

A card-wise stuff saved him out of his self-reproach, towed under the bottom of the man's packsack.

An employee's ID card? Not like. He looked like a student.

Maybe a student's ID card? Much like.

So…which school?

 

'Hey, you!' shouted the black-haired guy, with scold tone.

Got it!

Bradley had seen what was on the card—he was really a student as what Bradley had expected—before the man frozen him as if he were a thief.

'I thought it was your ID card, which was…outside your pack.'

Bradley told him a lie but, literally, was well acting. After all, he had graduated from Drama Center for almost two years. He pretended himself as a warm-hearted guy who ardently helped a stranger.

'Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were…. '

A special accent came out of the stranger's lips.

'A thief, I know.' Bradley pouted.

'I felt really sorry.'

Bradley could catch the man's embarrassing facial expression and took the chance to fall into talk.

'You're not a native, are you?'

'No, I come from Armagh.'

'Armagh?'

'In North Ireland.'

'That's why you've got peculiar accent.'

He showed a shy smile, then his watch told him something urgent—

'I've got to go. My audition in Young Vic Theatre won't wait me. Sorry.'

He nodded to the blonde and left, with his red umbrella, in a hurry.

Soon his figure faded away in Bradley's view, enclosed the red memory.

 

Clean and pure, the feeling still remained.

Bradley still remembered the photo on the card—

A man had lovely cheekbones, as well as beautiful turquoise eyes.

Bradley still remembered the name printed on the card—

Colin Morgan.

(THE END)


End file.
